A Singer Can Shatter Glass With The

Don't Bend; Don't Water It Down; Don't Try To Make It Logical; Don't Edit Your Own Soul According To The Fashion. Rather, Follow Your Most Intense Obsessions Mercilessly. Only If You Do That Can You Hope To Make The Reader Feel Every Particle Of What You, The Writer, Have Known And Feel Compelled To Share."---forward To Kafka's Short Stories

Maybe A New Religion Will Rise Now. Maybe Without It, Man Will Crumble In Cynicism And Selfishness Because He Really Needs His Gods.

What Does It Mean To Die When You Can Live Until The End Of The World?

I'm Speaking Of The Character Of Human Beings, Not What They Believe In. I'm Speaking Of Those Who Won't Accept A Useless Life Just Because They Were Born To It. I Mean Those Who Would Be Something Better. They Work, They Sacrifice, They Do Things..." He Was Moved By This, And I Was A Little Surprised That I'd Said It. Yet I Felt I'd Had Hurt Him Somehow. "there Is Blessedness In That." I Said. "there's Sanctity. And God Or No God, There Is Goodness In It. I Know This The Way I Know The Mountains Are Out There, That The Stars Shine.

I Loved Words. I Love To Sing Them And Speak Them And Even Now, I Must Admit, I Have Fallen Into The Joy Of Writing Them.